


Something's Gotta Give

by Bumblehigh07



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Don't smoke kids, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Marijuana, Mary Christiansen Is A Sad Mom, Multi, Opium, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, pot brownies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 07:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11869074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblehigh07/pseuds/Bumblehigh07
Summary: It's getting better.He'sgetting better.





	1. New Home, Old Wounds

The drive from Maine had been taxing on the both of them, thousands of miles spend on the back of a Motorcycle was never how he planned for he and his son to spend the first few days of the boy's Summer. But, he made a promise to himself that he would let Matthew finish his school year before they moved to California. In hindsight, he should have rented a car and packed the bike with everything else in the moving van but Matthew had been so keen on riding with him. He didn't have the heart to deprive him of that.

He was sure he smelled of gasoline and hotel shampoo, and that his son was fairing just as bad as he was. His legs had fallen asleep some way back in New Mexico and his stomach had woken up back in Los Angeles. Their last Gas stop he handed Matthew a twenty and let him buy something from the McDonald's to tide him over for the last couple hours of their trip.

"We're almost to Maple Bay, Bud," He said while giving his son a gentle hair tousle. "Three more hours, okay?"

"Okay, Dad." Matthew withdrew and made a beeline for the Restaurant-Gas Station fusion. He would be lying if he said that the smell of French fries and grease wasn't making his own stomach growl from under his jacket. But after coming home from the service, and diving into a double bacon cheeseburger from a Wendy's, his stomach had been in knots for a week and he spent the morning after feeling like his inside were being torn out.

His mother had sent a complaint to the establishment despite his best efforts to stop her and explain that three years with no fast food, hid body simply couldn't handle the unholy amounts of processed meats and cheese anymore. She relented and, albeit very reluctantly, wrote a letter of apology to the Wendy's Fast Food Establishment Line.

He fills up the tank of his bike for what he hopes is the last time for a while. Much as he loved the Machine, being on it for two days now put an ache between his legs and in the joints knuckles. He was getting too old to ride the Her but he didn't want to put Her into storage til Matthew was ready for Her just yet. There were too many memories had on the seat of that old Fatboy and he wasn't ready to retire her. Not yet.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, sending the short curls astray from where they were already tousled by his helmet. He should really get a haircut when they get to the new house. Maybe go back to the buzz. Keep it tidy.

The pump jerks as it finishes as he pulls it free, slotting it back into place and swiping his card. Matthew is just returning with a small box of McNuggets. He snags one and dunks it into the Sweet and Sour sauce in his son's other hand, popping it into his mouth.

"We can hang back a little while we're here," He says through the processed meat and sauce. He could already feel his stomach protesting him angrily. He pat it through his shirt to reassure it that soon it would get some actual food. Soon, baby.

"Good. My legs feel funny." The older brunette laughed and gave his son another well-meant hair ruffle before he began wheeling the Fatboy into a parking space and kicked down the stand. The bike stood out like a shiny red Gem next to all the Minivans and RV's. She turned a few heads with every stop they took and he would be lying if he didn't feel even the smallest bit of pride for it. They finish off the nuggets together (More so Matthew than himself. His stomach will thank him later) and Matthew runs off to the Visitor center in order to use the bathroom, his Father calling after him to "Make sure you wash your hands!"

The flush that goes up to the fourteen year old's ears makes him chuckle every time. The chuckle quickly becomes a cough and he winces. He digs through his pockets for his phone, checking the timer for his next pill. He deflates when he sees he still has another six and a half hours before his next pain killer. He debated whether or not he could forebode the timer and just take one anyway, just to get rid of the annoying ache in his spine. But then his Doctor's words come slinking back into his mind.

_"You're making progress, Samuel. Enough that we can trust you with an Opiate prescription again."_

He didn't realize he had taken out the bottle until he felt his fingers tighten around the plastic. His stomach turned in a way he couldn't blame on the fast food. Sam shoved the bottle into the saddle bag of his bike, digging out his water bottle and taking large gulps from it. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, taking a shaky breath as he put the bottle back. His hands trembled.

"You're getting better," He said to himself. "You're getting better. You're getting better. You're getting better." He repeated the Mantra over and over til the creeping tickle of _Need_ and _Want_ seeped out of him. He didn't need it. He didn't want it. He did _not_ need it. He takes a deep breath; breathes in the Gasoline fumes, the smell of cigarette smoke and old cheeseburgers. It grounds him and brings him back to reality fast enough to see Matthew coming back from the restroom. He forces a grin and hopes it makes it to his eyes as his son returns.

"Hey, Dad, what's the new house like?" Matthew asked.

Sam hummed as he shook out a few mints from a tin and popped those instead of his Medicine. "Little bit smaller than what we're used to, Bud," He says. "But I think you'll like it. It's in a nice quiet neighborhood. School is just a short drive away and I think the Realtor said there was a little coffee shop nearby with some real good banana bread."

"...Dad, you don't like Bananas."

"Bananas are evil, Mat. Don't trust anything that supposedly 'gets more ripe' while looks like its rotting away." That earned a good laugh from his boy and Sam grinned back at him as he chewed the mints. They hurt his tongue like hell -- but he hadn't been able to brush his teeth as well as he liked and these provided a little comfort till he could take a brush to his Molars.

"You'll like the house. Promise."

Matthew bums a few Altoids for himself and then they were climbing back onto the bike. They only had another four hours to go -- they would make it to the House by lunch time and by Dinner they would have (hopefully) made some progress on Unpacking. The long expanse of Highway was a comfort to Sam. It gave him something to focus on but nothing to think on. He just gave into the muscle memory and listened to the GPS routing directions straight into his ear via his Bluetooth.

\---

Sam cut the engine to the Fatboy, letting Matthew climb off first before swinging his leg over and kicking the stand down once more. The Traffic had been moderate and he managed to get them to the House in just over three hours. He gave himself a little pat on the back for that one ("Thank you, Sam. You're welcome, Sam."). Taking off his helm, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head to loosen up his curls. Definitely going for a haircut. He could not deal with Helmet hair every time he went for a ride anymore.

"Bruce!" He heard Matthew call just as he heard the barking and he looks up to see his Son dropping down and picking up the Family Pug. Bruce's tail was wagging as fast as it could, wriggling in Matthew's arms like a little black bean come to life. Behind him came running one of the Movers; a kid no more than twenty, probably still on College. He looked like a mess, his eyes red and dark bags sitting underneath, his hair unkempt and needed a good washing. Sam knew the feeling well

"Sorry, Sir!" He wheezed when he caught up to them. How a four year old Pug could outrun a youth like him, Sam would never understand. "He heard the bike and just went running! I tried to catch 'im but-!"

"Hey, don't worry about it." Sam gave the kid a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Bruce'll run away from you if you take your eyes off of him for more than five seconds. Did you feed him when you got here?" The kid blinked up at him, sleep-deprived brain trying to function and take in the information given to him. Finally he shook his head and nodded.

"Uh.. Yeah, yeah. Fed 'im just like you asked." Another pat and then a crisp ten was tucked into the breast pocket of his coveralls.

"Here. Go buy yourself a coffee. You look like you could use it." Sam tucked his helm under his arm and started up the driveway. He heard the youth behind him call out like he just witness one of God's Miracles first hand, "Thank you!" It brought a smile to his face as he shook his head. He opened the front door, unsurprised to see the hoard of boxes cluttering their new living room. But hey, the couch was there and it was calling his name.

But first-

"Hey, Marc, thanks for letting me borrow your truck. And your kid and your time." Same went up to the other man who was setting down another box, this one labeled 'Kitchen' in bold permanent marker. Marcus, a man scraping passed older than Sam with olive colored skin, grinned and reached out to clap his hand on Sam's back.

"Don't mention it, Man! Call it a thank you for saving my ass back in training." Sam snorted and took Marcus up in a loose headlock, knuckles rubbing over the bald crown of Marcus' head.

"Gotta watch out for those Rattlers! They'll getcha!" Sam laughed. Marcus eventually squirmed out of his fellow Soldier's hold, rubbing a hand over his head with a grin.

"Yeah well, just don't be telling anyone about that thing bit me.. Or where you had to suck out the poison." Sam made a show of zipping his lips despite his smile splitting them wide open. Marcus' secret was safe with him and he would take it to his grave. Only because it was as equally embarrassing for him. A comfortable silence fell over them as Sam ripped open the Kitchen box, checking the tableware to make sure nothing was broken. He trusted Marcus with his life -- but the man could drive like a maniac. Hence why he made sure to double wrap anything he deemed fragile.

"Hey," Marcus said. "How's your leg?" He risked a glance down to Sam's left leg before raising his gaze to meet the brunette's eyes again. Sam, notably, set a hand on his left thigh, feeling through the fabric of his cargo pants where his thigh gave way to his prosthetic. He gripped the fabric some before letting go and going back to unpacking. Distantly he could hear Matthew in the front yard with Bruce. He must have found one of the tennis balls.

"Fine. It stiffens up every now and then but the Doc tells me I'll live."

"Are you on anything for it?" Sam stopped, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He knew where Marcus was going with this.

"No. He said if there's pain I can take an Aspirin."

"Sam-"

He turned around suddenly, foot planting heavily on the linoleum of the kitchen -- a little too heavy for what was normal -- and glared. "Look, I get where you're coming from, Marc. I really do. Doc said I can be trusted with an Opiate again." The older man looked at him, not saying anything but he had that look to him that always made Sam twitch. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a nod.

"Alright, Man," He said. "I just don't want you going off again. Okay?" His worry was well-meant and Sam knew that. It was what made him deflate and run another hand through his hair as he lean against the countertop.

"I know," He sighs. "I know, Marcus. I'm sorry. But it's getting better. _I'm_ getting better. It won't be like last time. Promise." He knows Marcus won't be convinced until he was off the Medication for good, but with what he knew... He kept his mouth shut.

"What do they have you on?" He asks. He watched Sam dig through his pockets, pulling out a receipt and reading what was printed with a sniff.

"Mirtazapine. Thirty milligrams." He hears Marcus whistle low and watched his brows lift to what would have been his hairline -- if he had hair.

"Heavy shit," He said. "Just be careful with that stuff. Alright?" Sam nodded. Marcus was a Field Medic back when they served together. He knew any concern Marcus gave him was given appropriately and should be met with consideration and appreciation. Because there was still someone looking out for his Ass and he should be grateful. Marcus had been there for the Funeral and had carried his poor drunken form home too many times to count after.

They shared a brief hug, clapping each other on the back before Marcus pulled away to go collect his own son -- who had texted him from a Café just down the street -- and make the long drive back to Maine. When the moving Van was gone, Sam went to grab his bike and walk her up the driveway into the Garage. He made the mental note to put up a Helmet mount soon. He just kicked up the stand and pulled Her up when he's suddenly blinded by blonde hair that should have been in a movie, and a pink polo that looked like it belong in some sort of catalog.

"Hello, Neighbor!" The voice belonging to the living Ken doll was just as he expected: It sounded like it belonged to an old game show host in the Seventies. "Couldn't help but notice you just moved in. Thought I would come by and welcome you to the neighborhood." He jutted out a hand and Sam looked between him and his bike. He put down the stand and shook the blonde's hand. Wow. Soft. "I'm Joseph," The blonde said flashing a smile full of perfectly straight teeth. "These are some of my Kids! This is Christie and Christian."

"Sam." He looked at the two carbon copies of Joseph, both dressed in their own gaudy pink and khaki brown outfits. Though Christie had a pretty blue bow to offset the pink. They both stared back with a hollow gaze. "My boy's ... Somewhere. With Bruce."

"Was that the adorable little Pug I saw earlier?" Sam nodded and Joseph let out a laugh that belonged back in the Seventies. He collects himself shortly, hands folded in front of his chest once more. "So where did you move from? And where did you get such a beautiful ride?" He looked at the Fatboy by Sam's side and the brunette pat her seat affectionately.

"We drove up here from Maine, and this ol' girl was actually my Brother's. He gave her to me once his daughter was born and he packed up his riding days for good." Joseph was nodding along though Sam doubted he was even listening ... Or maybe he was. Joseph seemed like the type of man who liked to be friends with everyone. New neighbors probably didn't fall short on that list.

"You know, we should take a ride some time," Joseph said. Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"You ride?" The other man let out that obnoxiously perfect laugh again, blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he settled down into chuckles.

"I haven't for some time, but I still have the Ol' Hog in the garage under a blanket. Yours looks like she could use a riding partner, don't you think?" He tilted his head in question. Then his eyes shifted a fraction behind Sam and his composure fell as he quickly called out, "Christie Christiansen those are **not** yours to look through!"

Joseph hurried passed Sam where his daughter was currently trying to dig through one of the movie boxes (One, Sam noted was labeled 'Garage'). He picked her up and set her down away from the box, taking the wrench she had in her hands. The little girl pouted.

"But, Daddy, there's all sorts of stuff in there." She looked back behind her Father who brought her attention back and gave her a small scowl.

"Christie," Joseph sighed. "We talked about this after the incident with Arnold." That seemed to get the child feeling guilty enough that she lowered her head and toed at a loose pebble on the ground.

"'m sorry, Daddy.." She said. Sam almost didn't hear her. He feels someone tug on the end of his Jacket and he looked down to find Christian. Matthew was with him and still holding Edgar -- though that may have just been so the pug didn't jump on anybody.

"How come your dog only has one eye?" Christian asked. His Father heard that and whipped his head in their direction so fast, Same as surprised he didn't hear something snap.

"Christian-!" The brunette put his hands up to stop Joseph before he had an aneurysm and died on his lawn. He did not need that even if it would cut down on the Mortgage. Sam just laughed quietly and took Bruce from his son, snorting when the Pug began licking over his stubble and neck.

"Joseph, its cool I swear. Funny story about how we got this guy-" He said. He turned Bruce over and started scratching at his belly and Bruce's leg twitched happily. "A friend of mine actually found him alone as a puppy. He was messed up pretty badly; Starving. Thirsty. Covered in more ticks than you'd ever believe. My buddy takes him to Vet, gets his shots. Everything's good! Only to find out his wife is allergic to dogs." He's laughing at the memory, never seeing the way Joseph's expression softened. "So he calls me up and asks my if I want a dog and Mattie here practically begged me to at least _look_ -"

"Hey, you wanted him too!" Matthew huffed.

"..okay maybe I did. So we go down there, we take a look at the Pup -- and we just fell in love with old Brucer here." A good scratch behind the ears and he set the dog down. "But -- six months later and this idiot gets himself into a fight with a Shepard and his eye got infected. Now he's One-Eyed Bruce. Ain't that right, buddy?" The Pug just sat there panting happily and wagging his tail. Sam shook his head.

"You know," Joseph said. "We have a shelter in town. Lots of dogs there that need rescuing." He left the question hanging in the air but his eyebrows lifted in that way of asking. Sam had to shake his head with an apologetic smile.

"We're not really looking for another dog right now. But I've got some buddies of mine over seas who'll be interested." Joseph's eyes brightened again and when he spoke Sam could have sworn he sounded hopeful.

"Oh, do you sail by any chance?" Sam blinked.

"Ah.. No. What I mean is --"

"Dad used to be in the Army," Matthew explained for him. Joseph recoiled back almost immediately, hand over his chest and mouth agape in a wide smile much like a fish.

"Oh! Now, I see! Can I ask how long?"

"Two and a half tours."

"Two and a half?"

His hand subconsciously went to his thigh but he pulled it back, hiding it with the way he scratched the back of his neck and coughed. "Yeah," He said. "I was Discharged and put on Medical leave. The first time anyway." He could see the confusion building on Joseph's face -- and felt the itch building up under his skin. His light wind breaker suddenly felt too heavy and the sun felt way too bright and Joseph needed to _stop_. _Stop_. _Stop_. _Stop_. _STOP_.

"-am? Sam?" The brunette was startled back to his senses with a hand on his shoulder. His reflexes had him snatching it off and holding it tight but he let go when he saw the concern on Joseph's face. He didn't even want to think about what Matthew looked like. Or had Matthew already gone back inside? Joseph's brows drew tight together in worry. "I'm sorry," He apologized. "I know coming home can be difficult for some. I didn't mean to press." Sam sighed and shook his head, mumbling out his own apology. Six more hours, he told himself. Six more hours...

"I'm the Youth Minister at the Church," Joseph explains carefully. "I also do counseling for those who need it. If you ever feel the need to talk -- about _anything_ \-- please don't be afraid to come by." Joseph immediately reminded Sam of another fellow he served with. Highly religious man he was; carried his cross with him everywhere; made them pause and say Grace at dinner; He even read from his pocket bible every night before bed. Good man. He went home after his second tour and last Sam heard, he married the young Man waiting for him and they've since adopted.

He should really get back in touch with some of his old friends...

"Thanks," He says. "Mattie and I.. We aren't the religious type but.. I'll be sure to send it your way if we need some help." Joseph's smile replaced his frown within seconds, pearly whites back on display as he took his twins by his sides.

"Sometimes the best thing anyone can hear is what they aren't willing to tell themselves."

Joseph left shortly after that and Sam waved him off before continuing to walk the Fatboy up the drive. The shade thrown from the Garage helped immensely. Still, he tugged off his wind breaker and tossed it over the handle as he took a deep breath. Hand over his eyes and leaning back against the counter. It's getting better, he told himself. It's getting better.

_Six more hours._

You don't need it, he thought. _I don't need it._


	2. Dance Sammy Dance

Sam wakes up in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed and panting harshly. His mind reeled with memories of his dream; With memories of smoke and flames, and the smell of burning flesh. He can feel how his back is completely soaked and he whips it off. It didn't help him find his breath. He needed air. _Jesus Christ he couldn't breathe._

He throws off the covers, swinging his legs around and standing. He takes the moment because the movement cause a muscle spasm in his right leg and he almost went tumbling. But he saves himself by grabbing the bedside table. He pushes off and walks to the kitchen with long strides. Turning the faucet on to its coldest, he throws several large handfuls into his face and, at the same time, all over the floor and counter.

Then he is standing there trembling, knowing it is not from the cold beating against his ribs and chest. He can breathe again. That was all that mattered. The walls were no longer closing in on him and all he could smell was the fresh morning dew from the open window. He cursed and slicked back his hair, now damp with how careless he had been with the water. He should also find a towel to place on the ground in case Matthew came out during the night for a drink. He didn't want him falling. However, that would require him digging through the boxes still left to unpack.

He didn't want to wake Matthew after they were just getting to sleep by Midnight. He risked a glance at the clock on the coffee maker. The number glared back at him; 4:27 AM. He didn't want to go back to sleep and risk another nightmare, another _memory_. Instead, he trudges back to his room, into the bathroom connecting and he turns the shower on to the coldest he could handle. He strips and steps under the spray, letting it pound against his back and soak his hair till his teeth were chattering and his fingertips were blue. Least he was awake.

He pulled on an old t-shirt he didn't mind sweating in, and the pair of workout pants he got in the Service. They still fit and they were a good material, so why not keep them? Sam grabbed his phone and Matthew's headphones, scrawling a note that he borrowed them should his son wake up soon, then he was out and into the garage. He was glad he had the foresight to install the pull-up bar when he did. He needed the distraction that the routine of a work out would give him.

Something to focus on, but think about.

He plugs in his headphones, jumps and grabs onto the bars to begin pulling his weight up with the beat of his music. He falls into the rhythm of evening out his breaths with every contraction of his biceps easily. Up, down. Up, down. Cross the legs. Repeat. His shirt quickly becomes soaked with sweat and he drops only to pull it off before continuing. _Up, down. Up, down._

_You fell victim to all of these things I put you through. But before you say your goodbyes, I must tell you something you cannot deny._

He drops once more when his shoulders can take no more. The concrete floor is cold against his bare feet -- foot. His phone clock only reads 5:19. Too early to be completely done. Absently, he scratched at his thigh through his pants, nails catching some on his prosthetic. He hadn't been running in a long time. He never felt the drive to ever since he first lost the appendage.

"Time for a run."

He makes his way back inside, stopping to put a scoop of kibble into Bruce's bowl for when he woke up and filling his water bowl with fresh stuff. The pug drooled up a storm half the time and seeing how hid saliva floated in his water bowl had always made Sam a little nauseous. So he got fresh water every Morning, Noon, and Night. After filling up a bottle for himself, Sam head out for the park he had seen driving up into the cul-de-sac. He preferred to run during the early hours of the day when the neighborhood was still quiet and he could just be alone.

He doesn't bother putting his shirt back on, the air was quickly warming up and he did not need to worry about overheating when no one knew he was out here. He starts slow, getting the feel for how his leg will fair against the extra movement and shock. He deems it safe enough to press harder, easily lapping around the Lake in mere minutes. He should have brought Bruce out with him, he had been putting on a little bit of weight that he should really get rid of. This would have made for a nice run for the both of them. Maybe again later.

_Give me that canvas, lemme paint some shit! Pass me some poison lemme take a hit!_

The sun hopped out over the Horizon and painted the sky in brilliant pink and yellow hues, bringing with them the Summer heat that made his shoulders burn. He should have brought Sunscreen. How could he have not remembered the importance of proper SPF protection? He falters only some with his laughter, mentally scolding himself for sounding so much like a Dad. Then he picks up his pace again and rounds the Lake a few more times. He's just starting to feel the Runner's High when he feels the sudden tap on his shoulder.

It startles him enough that he almost trips as he tries to skid for a stop (His Drill Sergeant would have skinned him for that) and turns. He's got enough sense in him to pull out his ear buds and pause his music as the other man grins and waves.

"Hey, Sorry about that, Bro! Didn't mean to sneak up on you. I saw your buds and figured you couldn't hear me over your tunes." He's got a baby strapped to his chest in one of those carriers Sam always heard were terrible for a child. He must have had too much trust in those things. The child babbled quietly away, perfectly safe.

"I saw you talking to Joseph the other day," The other man kept going. "I was gonna stop by and say Hi myself but I never got the free time for it. I'm Craig!" He stuck out his hand, much like Joseph had the day before, and Sam shook it on instinct. He already liked the Vibe Craig gave off. Also, if anyone else was up at this hour they had his respect almost immediately.

"Name's Sam. And who's this one?" He makes a motion to the baby and Craig grins wider.

"This here is River. Say Hi, River." He took one of her little hands in his own and made it wave, River giggling over the action and kicking her legs. It made Sam wish he bought one of those carriers when Matthew was a baby. Because nothing got you attention like a baby strapped to your chest.

"She's cute. How old is she?"

"She'll be eight months pretty soon. You're an old Geezer, River!" Craig played with his daughter's hands as he laughed and she giggled more, even blowing a spit bubble in the process. Matthew used to blow spit bubbles. But for some reason those were always followed by Vomit. Still, the instinct drilled into him after raising his son and knowing his habits forced Sam to take a precautionary step back. Just in case. Cause you never know.

"So where'd you move up here from?"

"Maine."

"Aw, Dude. That must have been one sucky drive. Didn't you ride up on a motorcycle too?" Sam nodded as he took a swig from his water bottle. He shrugs when he has his mouth free again. Talking to Craig was an awful lot like talking to Marcus. Familiar. Comfortable.

"It could have been worse. Soon as we crossed Arizona things got smoother. Dust was hell though." That earned Sam a short short of laughter from the other man. He noticed a scar on Craig's eyebrow, vaguely wondering how he got that. Well-Maintained guy like him didn't seem like the type to be reckless. Especially since he had a baby.

Maybe he does Parkour.

"Hey, I'll catch ya' later, Bro! I gotta finish this run!" Sam waved as he started jogging off again. He figured it was a good time to start for home. The house was still full of boxes to unload and he needed an actual shower. "Oh! Hey, Sam!" He turned when Craig called from further down the path, the other brunette now jogging backwards with his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Your tattoos are _AWESOME!_ " Sam raised his arm, where the ink covered the right appendage in robotic mechanisms and muscle tissue, and called back,

"Thanks!" He got two thumbs up and then Craig was jogging off down the Path to circle around the Park grounds. _Nice guy,_ Sam thought as he started for home. _Seems like the type that'd be fun to run with._ He makes another note to find out more on Craig, maybe Joseph sees him around church every so often. Was a guy like Craig even religious? If he were, he'd seem like the type to wear some sort of cross or something. But then again, no one could have been like Brad; The overly religious soldier.

The rest of the neighborhood is slowly starting to wake up by the time he makes it home. His muscles ache and he knows he is going to feel this later on. Not that he minds. Muscle pains were a welcome back in training. It meant you did your best and better. He's one foot on his stoop before he hears his name from across the Cul-De-Sac in a familiar voice.

"Sam!" He looked back and saw a familiar shade of pink and blue and platinum blonde hair waving from to him from his rival porch. Joseph looked as clean and pressed as the afternoon Sam first met him. And it was barely even Seven in the morning. Still, he waves back with a comedic, "Hey, Joe!" Before heading inside. There is the sound of nails on the floors and then Bruce is happily trotting up to him.

"Mornin', Brucer. D'you eat?" A quick glance at his bowl told him yes, Brice did in fact eat. "Good boy," He praised with a scratch behind the ears. "Lemme take a shower and then maybe we can go for a walk." Bruce sat there panting, enjoying all the affection he was getting and going as far as rolling over for a belly rub. Well okay fine, because he's such a good boy. Ain't ya', Bruce?

Sam just chuckles and rises, toeing off his running shoes by the door and grabbing a towel from the short stack in the linen closet. He dug out his shampoo from his bag, bottle of wash following. He could already smell himself. And he did not smell very pleasant. He let Bruce out into the Backyard to do his business first before jumping in the shower and scrubbing the sweat off his body.

There was just something about a home shower that you couldn't replicate in a motel room. The pressure was always just better in his opinion. He let the water beat against his back again as he brushed his teeth, using enough toothpaste to make him look like a rabid dog. It was better then morning breath.

When he's standing in front of his vanity, he's looking over his options for eyewear. Should he put his contacts back in like he had for the drive up? His helmet always did fit better when he wasn't wearing his glasses. But the frames always did provide a sort of comfort he couldn't get with contacts. He often found himself reflexively moving to push his glasses up, only to find nothing and feel like an idiot.

They slid into place right on his nose -- holy shit these things are dirty. (Another reason why he opted to wearing contacts nine out of ten times). After cleaning his lenses he dressed combed his hair. The clock read just passed eight-thirty and he heard Bruce's nails on the floor again with a happy bark. Matthew must have been up.

"Mornin', Kid." He said as he walked on out. Matthew had cow licks all over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

"Morning, Dad.. Is there food?"

"Anything that needed to be in the fridge is there and we've still got a pantry's worth to unload, but I think there's some cereal around here somewhere." He opened the flaps to one box on the table, sitting through the cans of soup and tomatoes with a hum. Okay not in this one. "...or did we eat the rest of it before we left?"

"I think that's it." Sam stepped back, scratching at his stubble (should probably dig out his razor soon) and mulling over their options. He'd have to go shopping eventually, but he wasn't feeling like hopping back on the bike so quickly.

"Ya' know, I think we can risk eating out one more time before we go to the Market. Get dressed, buddy." Matthew perked up at the idea and hurried off to throw on some clothes. Bruce pawed at Sam's pant leg and he looked down, squatting and scratching the pug behind the ears with a laugh. "You wanna come too, Brucer? Alright, lemme get your leash." He wandered into the living room and grabbed Bruce's leash from a hook on the wall he put up the other day. He whistled and the Pug came running, letting his Master slip the harness around him. He knew the Harness meant walkies.

The Coffee Spoon is a short walk from the house and even in the early morning it was beginning to fill with energy and those early risers that needed their daily dose of Caffeine. The smell of fresh bread hit both Sam and Matthew in the face when they walked in through the door, along with raisins, chocolate, and -

"Bananas," Sam grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Why did it have to be Bananas?

"Because some people actually like bananas, Dad." Matthew grinned and took Bruce's leash in his hand, wandering over to a couch and sitting down. Sam only huffed and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Traitor.' Then he made his way up to the counter and looked up to the Menu.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck.

Are any of these even coffee?

"Hey, Man. You look like you could use some help." There's suddenly a man with rich mocha colored skin in his vision who's looking at him a little amused, and sympathetic. "Welcome to the Coffee Spoon. I'm Matt, how can I help you?" Sam blinked behind his own pair of glasses.  
"Uhm.. Yeah. Do you actually sell coffee here?" Matt laughed a little, the sound smooth like velvet and deep like good Jazz music. It suited him rather nicely, Sam thought.  
"I see you're the new guy in town. I actually live right next to you. Sweet sleeve by the way." He nodded to Sam's arm, lifting his own to reveal the end tails of what might have been a tribal tattoo. Sam nodded his approval.

"You too, Matt. I'm Sam, and my son over there is Matthew." Matt's eyes wandered over to where Matthew was looking over some of the framed posters that covered the walls of the Spoon. He smiled again and brought his eyes back to the other man in front of him.

"I've a daughter about his age!" Then he turned to call into the back of the store, "Carmensita! Come here for a second!" A little girl around Matthew's age, with brightly colored overalls and curly hair, came out and Matt brought her to his side. "This is our new neighbor, Sam. His son is over there, why not go say Hi?"

"Okay, Dad! Hi, Sam!" Carmensita waved before running off to go to Matthew. It brought a smile to Sam's face, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as he crossed his arms.

"She's cute."

"Thanks. Hey, didn't you want some coffee?" Matt asked with a soft smile.

Sam flushed and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked back to the Menu. "Uh.. Yeah.. I did. But.." He never even heard of half of these names on there.

"Not big on Skaa, are you?"

"Nah. Actually, Punk is more my thing." Matt's brows lifted.

"Really?"

"All the way, Man! My brother showed it to me when I was younger. Been in love with it ever since." Matt hummed as he glanced at the Menu, foot tapping some before he brightened.

"I know just what you need, Sam. You sit down with Matthew and Carmen, I'll be right back." He flashed a grin and disappeared behind the counter. Sam meandered back to his son, who was enthralled in a conversation with Carmensita over Bruce, happily sprawled on the ground as he was showered with belly rubs.

So many belly rubs.

"Hey, Dad!" Matthew scooted over so his father could sit down, unconsciously getting closer to Carmensita. Sam noticed and put on a knowing smile.

"Hey, Bud. You two having fun with One-Eyed Bruce here?"

"He's so cute!" Carmensita laughed as she scratched Bruce on just the right spot and got his leg kicking. "It's such a cool thing that you guys rescued him too!" The praise got Matthew growing red as he grinned and gave Bruce a scratch behind the ear. Happiest pug in the world, this one. Sam watched on in quiet content, glad to see his Son settling in better than he expected (better than he was) and already making a friend (Crush). Actually, now that he thought about it, he figured he would feel content either way. It was just the Vibe that the Coffee Spoon gave off.

It was a small place, but it made him feel like he wasn't a giant. Most placed he went to, people had to do double takes whenever he walked by just based on his sheer size alone. One of the reasons why he even thought about Military service was because he stood at an even six-four after Highschool. Granted, it felt a little odd having to look down at Joseph, Craig, and now Matt, but none of them showed to be intimidated by his build. Almost ten years in the service gave him broad shoulders and arms almost the size of tree trunks.

His wife was certainly approving, that's for sure.

Matt comes back with a tray of things that Sam doesn't even try to figure out what they are because it all just smells so good. First; Coffee.

"A few new recipes I've been working on, tell me what ya' think." Sam took the mug offered to him and tipped it back slowly. It was hot, very very hot. In more than one way apparently! The bitter-sweet mocha was followed by a warm heat of -- maybe Cayenne? -- right in the back of his throat. He let out a low whistle, blinking and letting out a laugh.

"Wow. Was not expecting that! But its good." He took another sip to prove his point and Matt smiled proudly. "Not too much heat. I like it."

"Why don't you name it then? Since you're the first person to try it out." Sam didn't even need to think about the name.

"Inspire The Fires." Matt mulled it over, even mouthing the words a few times. He nodded with a grin and a laugh.

"Inspire The Fires! I love it!" Sam let Matthew have a sip, and the boy approved just like his father did. Matt produced a small notepad from his pocket, scribbling down the new name of the drink and slipping it back to irs proper place. From there they fell into an easy conversation, Sam even gave him the idea to figure out some sort of dog-safe treats.

"It would definitely bring a lot more people to Spoon," He shrugged. He snagged a piece of Coffee bread off the platter and popped it into his mouth, chasing the Mocha with cinnamon. He did, however, politely decline the banana bread (Evil bastards were trying to get him at every turn). Eventually he has to say goodbye to the Barista, promising to stop by more often before taking Bruce's leash from Matthew and together they made the walk home. 

"He seems like a nice guy," Matthew said. Sam glanced at him and smiled again, already knowing where this was going.

"Yeah. I can see us hanging out with him and Carmensita. He did say he likes going to Shows."

"Maybe we can take him to the next Neck Deep concert!" The boy said excitedly, bouncing on his heels. Matt seemed more like a mellowed strings type of guy (Apparently Skaa was still a thing) and he wasn't sure if he could handle the Heavy chords that came with a Punk Rock concert.

But who knew?

"Baby steps, Buddy," He chuckled while ruffling his hair. "Baby steps."


	3. What Are We Even Doing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning: Mixing Prescription Medications with recreational drugs and alcohol can have negative side affects. Please don't do any of this at home.

They get the rest of the boxes unpacked in an hour and even catch the beginning of a Jaws marathon on television (The first one is always the best in Sam's opinion). He doesn't wake up Matthew when he falls into a nap at around noon -- He was up late and up early, he deserved it -- leaving Sam to himself with Bruce at his side. There's nothing else to do and he doesn't go in for Work until next week.

 _Work._ It leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat just thinking about it. His work would have him leaving Matthew alone for most of the Day. Sometimes even the night. He knew Matthew was a smart kid and knew what to do if someone tried to break in. He'd taught him how to shoot just to be on the safe side. Because sometimes the people who broke in weren't just teenagers looking to make a quick buck.

There were dangerous people in the world.

 _You would know all about that wouldn't you, Sam?_ He shakes his head free of the voice, but not of the chill that has now crept down his spine. No. Focus on the movie. The shark just bit into the power line. _You'd know all about dangerous people, Sammy. But why bother protecting him? He's going to end up the same._

Not true. Not true. **Not true.**

His fingers twitched against his legs, gripping the fabric of his sweats as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. It would not happen again. He would never allow it to.

 _You couldn't stop them before. Why think you could stop them now?_ He's up and hurrying to his room, trying to even out his footfalls so he didn't wake up Matt when his prosthetic fell on the linoleum. All the while he's telling the voice to shut up. To shut the _fuck_ up. They moved. Across the damn country. _They're going to find you again, Sam. They're going to find Matthew and take him just like they took Sarah._

He slammed his hands down on the vanity, his pulse rushing in his ears with a deafening volume. But the voice came back louder. Each time.

_You're not getting better, Sam. You're not getting better at all._

"I am getting better," He mumbled, white knuckling the counter top and gritting his teeth. "I **am** getting better!" _No you're not. Not yet. Just take a little more, Sammy. You want to get better, don't you?_

"...I want to get better." He opened the medicine cabinet and took down the little orange bottle. "I want to get better."

 _Just a little more, Sam. Then you'll get better._ He screwed off the cap and shook out a pill, dry swallowing it. _One more, Sam. One more._ He shook his head, denying the voice what it wanted from him. He wouldn't do that again. He wouldn't spiral again. "It's getting better," He said to his reflection trying to make it believe him. Trying to make him believe himself. "I'm getting better. I'm getting better."

What was better anymore?

Then there's the double tone of the doorbell and it snaps Sam back to his senses. He gripped the bottle with a snarl, throwing it back into the cabinet carelessly and slamming the door shut. Another splash of water to the face then he was answering the front door. He was met with a familiar head of blonde hair and a grin that made him squint.

"Hey, Neighbor!"

"Hey, Joe." Joseph chuckled at the nickname, eyes twinkling softly with amusement.

"I hate to be that type of person, but I was wondering if you happened to be free for the moment? I know you still had some unpacking to do last we talked." He stepped back as Sam stepped outside and closed the door behind him, crossing his arms and leaning against it.

"Actually we finished unloading everything about an hour ago-" He watched Joseph brighten. "-Whatcha need, Joe?"

"I'm afraid I'm a little short of hands down at the Church bake sale."

"...I don't have to bake, do I?" Joseph laughed and shook his head.

"No, no! We've got too many sweets as it stands! I mean we just need someone to watch a table or two. Help make sure no one steals anything." Sam blinked slowly.

"...you mean.. People actually steal.. From a Church Bake sale?" Joseph let out a disappointed sigh and nod.

"Unfortunately. We usually catch Hi-Them! Them. I mean... To be honest, we all know its Ernest."

Ernest, Hugo's boy from what Sam had gathered by the text messages he and Joseph shared the other day. Troubled kid by the sounds of it. He knew what Divorce could do to a kid of his age, He'd gone through the same with his own family. Least he had his brothers to run to.

"If the lil Turd comes by, I'll keep my eye on him," He assured Joseph. "Let me just leave Matthew a note and take out something he can make for lunch for himself." He steps back inside, allowing Joseph in and closing the door again. He hears the skittering of nails on the floors and then Bruce was scampering up to the new person in the house, intent on sniffing at him and getting even more belly rubs. Joseph happily allowed the pug to sniff his palm and a scratch behind the ears in that perfect spot.

"And how is One-Eyed Bruce today?" He cooed quietly while his other hand came to scratch under the chin, much to the Pug's delight. Bruce quickly flopped onto his back -- here came the belly rubs! "You know, you should bring him along! I know everyone always loves it when there's a dog around."

"And spoil him even more than he already is?" Sam snorted but he was already grabbing Bruce's leash. He left a note for Matthew on a can of Ravioli then slipped on and laced up his boots. "Ah, who am I kidding? This guy just loves being the center of attention. Don't ya', Bruce?" The pug gave a low bark of approval, his leg kicking as Joseph scratched near his hip. Joseph chuckled again and stood up, Bruce quickly righting himself and looking up at the blonde with his ears lowered.

_Why'd ya' stop?_

"Come on, Brucer!" Sam attached the leash and the pug's tail started wagging again, happily trotting out the door to wherever it is his Master was taking him. Hopefully back to the Good Smelling place they went to earlier. "Met Craig earlier this morning, Sam said as conversation while they walked. "While I was on my run."

"I'm sure the meeting was brief?" Joseph asked knowingly. Sam nodded again. "He's a busy man but he does mean well. Ever since his old roommate moved in last month, he's been taking better care of himself. He used to run himself ragged almost every hour of the day!"

"Yikes. Glad to hear he's doing good though. Does he have kids aside from River?"

"Of coarse! Briar and Hazel are on the Softball team. Craig is their coach as much as their Father." Sam let out a low whistle. He wasn't sure how Craig could do that. ... Actually he wasn't sure how anyone could handle their father being their coach. Not sure how his brothers did it back when they were in Football. "I didn't know you wore glasses," Joseph hums after a moment. Sam remembered he had put them on early that morning.

He brought a hand up subconsciously, pushing them higher along the bridge of his nose. He must have grabbed his Transitions. Good thing too, the Sun was bright today. "I always keep them on hand for when I don't want to mess around with contacts." He shrugged and they stop while Bruce sniffed at a tree that looked perfect for peeing on.

"I think you look rather nice with them on." Joseph took a half step closer, head tilting as he took a good look at the other man with his lenses on. But if there was one thing Sam learned during his years in the Service, it was how to read body language. Since their first meeting, Joseph had always composed himself carefully; Never putting too much of himself out but never completely closing himself off. He kept himself perfectly neutral. Now that seemed to change. Sam immediately saw the shift where Joseph stopped thing him as a Neighbor, and started seeing him as _Available._ But Sam was no fool. He saw that wedding band. Gold and easily able to be missed against the slight tan of Joseph's skin, but he'd seen it glint in the Sun before.

He took the half step back with a cough, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he tugged on Bruce's leash. A little harder than he'd like but he suddenly got the feeling that they needed to keep walking. Now. He needed to put distance between himself and Joseph. "Thanks," He mumbled quietly as they continued on. It wasn't like Sam didn't find Joseph attractive; Joseph was a very handsome man and Sam had never been shy about his sexuality (He swung both ways and anyone who didn't like that could kiss his ass. He didn't lose a leg in Afghanistan to be judged).

But it was different when they were married. And Joseph was for a fact. Why keep the ring on otherwise?

The sight of the Church coming up in the distance nearly made Sam send a thank you to the Big Guy himself (if he still believed) but really he was just glad for the excuse of Joseph taking another step away from him, putting just enough distance between them to not suspect anything. But not so much that anyone would ask questions. Few people notice Joseph walking up and wave, he returns them with his ever present smile and Show-Host smile. It was strained ever so slightly at the edges, now that Sam took a good look at him.

There was more to Joseph Christiansen than he originally thought.

He drops into an empty chair behind a table covered with all sorts of confections, all homemade no doubt. He wondered if he could sneak a brownie without anyone noticing. He hadn't had a good homemade brownie since he last visited his Mother and she'd made a batch especially for him (Bless that Woman). He's just about to make a grab for one when a shadow falls over him and he turned his head to meet the unfriendly eyes of the woman behind him.

His immediate thought is, _why is she wearing a sweater?_ It was a good almost-eighty degrees out.

"You're in my seat, Bud," She griped. He could see the wine stains on her teeth, bur silently commemorated her for attempting to brush and whiten them away. She has the look of a Mom with too many kids and not enough free time. He's sees that look far too many times.

"Mary-" Joseph is suddenly by her side and has _that_ smile on again. "-I've told you about our new neighbor, Sam! I invited him to help us out since Brian went on his weekend fishing trip with Daisy." Brian; Lived Next door to Sam (That trip must be why he hadn't met him yet) and was extremely competitive. Doted on his Daughter, Daisy.

Mary gave Joseph a look as she crossed her arms. Sam saw a flash on her hand and quickly catches sight of the Wedding Ring. Mary and Joseph. Everything about this guy sounded like it came out of the Old Testament itself. "Yeah? Well, he's still in my seat, Honey."

"Why not just take the chair next to him? You're still in the shade, Darling." Joseph's answer obviously is not the one Mary wanted to hear and she scowls, digging the wrinkles around her mouth even deeper. If she weren't so obviously unhappy, Mary would have been a beautiful woman. Still was. Sam could see why Joseph ever fell on love with her. He can, however, see the tension building and stands up before anything can blow over.

"Joe, its alright. I can move." He steps to the other chair and sits down, crossing his leg over the other and leaning back to show he was nice and comfy (even though these chairs were terrible and he would be feeling all of this in his lower back tomorrow). Mary gives him something of a smirk and takes her spot.

"Thanks," She says. She doesn't mean it.

Joseph manages another strained smile towards Sam before he's disappearing off in the small crowd of people that had gathered on the Church grounds. Sam feels Bruce tug on his leash as he sniffed curiously at the lock-box under the table. Mary almost immediately shooed him away with a side glare his way. It brings a knowing smile slowly to his face as he eases further down in the chair.

"So. Am I going to have to tell your husband there's weed in there?" He drawls put quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. He sees her freeze for half a second before huffing and crossing her arms.

"Are you a cop?"

"Nope."

"Do you know cops?"

"Possibly." He clicks his tongue and looked at her over his glasses with a smirk. "But I'll make a deal with you. Split it with me and I'll keep my mouth shit." Mary's brows lift in surprise, blinking in shock, and then letting out a snort of laughter.

"No shit. You serious?" She asks, reduced to quiet chuckles. She glanced back to where Joseph disappeared, where they could both hear his loud and jovial voice from the crowd, and leaned closer to him. "First of all; They're brownies. Second; You're lucky you're cute. So first one's free."

She reached into the lock box, swiping a square wrapped in plastic and handing it to him from under the table. Sam chuckled and took it, but didn't let go of her hand and instead pulled her closer to whisper back,

"Two or my deal's off."

Another snort and she yanked her hand back. Still, she gave him another chocolate confection and he stuffed both into his pocket with a grin. "I like your style," She says while leaning back, letting her hair fall down her back. "Joseph tells me you served. So what's a Soldier like yourself doing trying to score some pot?" Sam let out a laugh that was more harsh than he meant it to be, tightening his hands around Bruce's leash and leaning down to pat his head.

"If you've seen half the things I have, you'd want a distraction too." He leaves it at that. He always leaves it at that. Lucky for him, Mary doesn't question further and instead nods. Nods like she's used to Cryptic answers and vague back-stories.

"You drink, Soldier?" Mary asks him after selling a passing Mom an apple fritter. He had been eyeing those fritters for a while now. But he already had his late night guilty (very very guilty) pleasures. Then his mind goes back to that orange bottle in his medicine cabinet.

"I used to," He answers.

"Why'd'ya stop?"

His fist clenched atop his leg. "Life." He gets another nod from her, and a slow click of her own tongue.

"You remind me of a buddy of mine," Mary says. "You'd like him. He's seen his own share of hells on this Planet." She flashes a smile at a passing Man, looking ready to pounce and sink her teeth into him. It gets the man walking faster before she's turning her focus back on Sam. "Stop by Jim N' Kim's later tonight if you wanna meet him." Distantly he can hear Marcus' voice in the back of his mind telling him to go for it. That he needs to know other human beings aside from his Son.

_"It's been six years, Sam. You have to move on."_

He looked at Mary again, chewing the inside of his lip and nodding. "Sure. Why not?"

\---

Jim N' Kim's, as it turns out, was an old dive bar that was a short walk from the House. Sam made sure to put Matthew to bed first before slipping on his jacket and heading out. The night air felt good as it picked at his hair. It is instantly crushed when he opens the door to the bar and is nearly blasted with a rush of warm air.

He spots Mary at the bar, talking to someone with their back towards him. He make out a head of scruffy hair and maybe a hint of stubble when mystery-guy turned his head just right. Mary's eyes finally landed on Sam at the door and she waved him over with a grin that promised things he wasn't sure he could handle right now.

_You should have just stayed home, Sam, taken your sleeping pill and just gone to sleep._

He shakes the voice away as he made his way over, taking the empty stool on Mary's right.

"About damn time," She said over her glass of wine (fucking knew it). "I was beginning to think you bailed on me."

"Had to make sure Matthew actually went to sleep before coming out. He can't all have loving Husbands to take the nightshift, Mares." She snorts at the nickname, head tilting back and letting out a laugh that was pure drunken reality. So unlike her husband's; Where it was cheap plastic.

"Anywho~" She slurs only slightly. "I did promise to introduce you to my buddy. Sam, Robert Small." She jabs her thumb to the mystery man next to her. He was nursing a glass of whiskey, dark eyes making a lazy sweep towards him and he only nodded in a gruff acknowledgement. Mary smacked his shoulder lightly and glared. "Hey, you be nice. He fought for our country. Or some bullshit like that." That seemed to catch Robert's attention and he focused on Sam more intently.

"You served?"

"Almost three tours." Sam nods and leans against the bar top. The bartender looked at him from where he was toweling dry a tumbler, cocking an eyebrow in silent question.

He really shouldn't drink on his medication.

"Neil, get this man a drink," Robert is saying before he can decline the offer. A rock settled in the pit of his stomach as he fought back a frown. If he declined now it would be rude. He mumbled a soft thanks when the glass of bourbon was placed in front of him. He really was more of an IPA man, thanks to one too many brewery tours with his brother. Still, he raised the glass to his lips and took a slow sip.

Yep. That felt like early days in Training.

"Sammy-" He's turning his attention back to Mary and smiling at the nickname. "-Sam. Man. I gotta ask. Is that bike of yours the only thing to ride?" He's not even buzzed but he laughs like he is. Because that was so terrible and yet so beautiful at the same time.

"Unfortunately, Mary, there is a height limit to riding that beast. And you don't reach the bar." Another pull of his drink and he can feel the warmth in his stomach creeping up his chest. He watches Mary pout and sigh dramatically, before giving him a wink and standing up.

"In that case, boys, I believe I found my entertainment for the evening-" She did a quick scan of the bar, eyes landing on some poor guy who was about to get sunken into. "-over there." She's off with a flick of her hair, leaving behind the smell of perfume and wine.

"She's a character," Sam says over his drink as he takes another sip from it. He really _should_ not be drinking while on his medication.

"If you were married to Joseph you'd be one too." Robert finished off his whiskey, waving Neil over after setting it down. The younger man came forward with the bottle, pouring over the half-melted ice cubes with practiced ease. Then he was gone and down at the other end of the bar to help other people. "So, did you really come down here because Mary told you to?" Robert asked while eyeing Sam sideways. The other brunette chuckled against his glass, finishing his bourbon before turning to him.

"You know her so well. Are you aware of her baking habits?" That got the other pausing with his glass half way to his lips. Then his face was breaking out in a grin and he was laughing and it warmed Sam up. But he could easily blame that on the bourbon -- oh hey. When did his glass get filled? Goddamn Neil was good. He lift his newly filled glass up and took a long swig of it until his throat burned. What wasn't he supposed to be doing again?

"She gave you a brownie. Didn't she?" Robert asked with a knowing grin and Sam matched it. Wordlessly moving his jacket open, he revealed his inside pocket and the two squares tucked safely away. Robert snorted and shook his head, muttering something suspiciously like 'goddamnit, Mary' under his breath but it was all in amusement.

"I'll let you have the other one of ya' want," Sam is saying before he even realizes it.

"Hell yes," Robert said. He knocked backed his drink quickly and stood, shouldering on his jacket. "But we are not eating them here. Let's go." Sam throws a few bills on the bar top and follows behind wordlessly. He leads him to the beat up pick-up in the parking lot. Sam always did have a passion for older Models.

Cars. He meant cars.

He climbed in after Robert, pulling the passenger door shut as the engine rumbled to life. Just as they are pulling away it finally hits Sam just _what_ he was doing. In seconds his instincts are screaming at him to get out. To tuck and roll out of the truck before they get too far away from town. His fingers itch and instinctively he rolls down the window for air. He was panicking for nothing. Even with the few drinks in him he was clear-headed enough that if Robert tried anything he could handle himself.

He had nearly a head's worth on Robert (it was actually a good three inches). He would be fine.

"Nice ink." Robert's voice almost startles him. He looks down at his arm, where the sleeve of his jacket had rolled up enough to reveal the ends of his tattoo.

"Thanks," He says. "I've got one more on my back." Robert's eyes move off the road for a second to glance at him, the edges of his mouth twitching upwards as he looked back. It relaxed Sam some. Just enough to let himself sink back against the seat and take in the smell of the ocean as they drove.

They turned and pulled into another parking lot, this one achingly familiar to Sam. As he had been here only a few hours before. He arched an eyebrow and looked back at Robert. "Aren't we on Church grounds?" He watched the Older laugh as he shook out a cigarette, holding it between his teeth and flicking the lighter.

"Yep. Now are we gonna get stupid high or what?"

It had been a long time since Sam had been stupid high. But biting into that brownie after pulling back the Saran Wrap brought him back to high school with his brother. When they would sit in his car and smoke and talk about absolutely nothing. He knew the brownie wouldn't take full effect for another forty-five minutes so he bummed a cigarette from Robert and lit up. They sit there for a good twenty minutes just smoking and sitting in silence. Sam isn't sure when but he suddenly comes to notice that he can't quite feel his leg.

"Holy shit." He hears Robert snort before bark out a laugh at Sam's muttered exasperation. "Mary knows how to make a _good_ fuckin' weed brownie."

"Oh yeah." Robert took a drag of his cigarette, tapping the ashes out the window. "These'll fuck you up. I don't even think I can drive right now."

"You were plannin' on driving?" Sam hummed the question. He was feeling too good to actually be worried about a possible accident. Actually he was feeling too good to worry about anything. Probably why he doesn't hear Robert's answer as he's too busy being very interested in a tear in the upholstery on the ceiling. Yeah. That was a nice tear.

He can't remember how but they somehow make it back to town and Sam's feet are moving on their own. Er -- no, wait -- he was just following Robert again. Following up to his door when Robert turns to him. His eyes were glossy. No. Scratch that. His eyes looked like straight up fucking _marbles._ Sam figured his eyes were faring any better than his. Oh, Robert was talking again.

"I don't kiss and tell Sam..." He immediately lost interest as Sam looked at the outside of Robert's house. Nice place. Built similarly to his own. He could even see a dog in the window! _Were_ they at his House? His shoulder was bumped and he was knocked back to his senses, hyper focusing on the way Robert was looking at him. Looking ready to bust a gut laughing. "You didn't hear a word I said. Did you, Sam?"

Sam swayed before snorting and shaking his head, grinning so wide his cheeks hurts. Robert laughed at him, face flushed high and shoulders shaking and holy fuck they were gonna wake someone up.

"Oh my god," Sam gasps a second later, eyes wide. Robert doesn't even get the chance to ask the question. "I just remembered.. There's food at my house! There's -- fuckin' -- GOLDFISH!" Robert looks like he's crying with laughter and he was doing that laugh where it was silent. And he was clapping. Silent seal laughter. The best.

"D'you wanna eat the Goldfish, Sam?" He barely manages.

"I wanna eat the fuck out of those Goldfish."

Rob wiped a tear from his eye, barely getting himself together as he walked up and clapped his hands on Sam's shoulders. Sam did the same and god this was so stupid. Like they were rallying up for a Football Game. They even bumped heads. "Go eat those fucking Goldfish, Sam," He's saying. "You show those cheese flavored bastards just who the fuck owns them. Who owns them?"

"I fuckin' own them."

"Who owns them?!"

"I FUCKIN' OWN THEM!" Sam is whipping up with his shout, not caring they were still standing outside Robert's door and anyone -- literally anyone -- could come outside to see what the hell was going on and why he was screaming. He turned and started back for his house, stumbling only some. He paused, half way into the street and turned back around. Robert was still there. Sam extended an arm and pointed.

No words were spoken. But they both knew what this meant. They were on terms no one else would understand now. They shared a bond no one else could. No. This was a bond only two people who got high together could share. Robert nodded, pointing back because if he didn't there would be no point to this adventure. But there was a point to this. And it was here. In this silent acknowledgement of each other.

... Yea there really was no point to this. They were just high and acting like idiots and they both knew it. But they was the bond they had now.

Sam snorted again before wandering off back across the street to his own house.

He had a bag of Goldfish to devour.


	4. Who Needs Spring?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is ridiculous in this and gets Sam into so much trouble.

The sun is slotting through the open blinds of the kitchen as she stands again the stove, humming quietly under her breath as she moved the eggs around the pan and rocking side to side to a beat only she could hear. It was a song Sam got stuck in her head, the bastard. Even if it was a song worth getting stuck. She reaches over and takes a sip of her coffee, letting out a quiet sigh at the warmth that filled her.

People could say whatever they wished about coffee, but she would rather go through a root canal with no morphine then go a day without the brew. She's in the middle of taking another long sip when she hears the telltale step-thunk of her husband coming into the Kitchen. His presence brings a smile to her face that widens as he wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek.

"Mornin'."

"Hey, soldier," She hums while turning her head and kissing him back. Briefly. "Pots fresh and the eggs are done." She turned off the stove, moving the pan off the heat and moving to grab some plates. "Do you know when your mom wants you to pick up Matthew?" She asks while scooping eggs and bacon onto their plates.

He lets out a thoughtful noise, from behind his mug, sipping at the hot liquid slowly. "Probably this afternoon. She'll want him home by lunch." He grabs the forks and meets her at the table, taking another moment to kiss her cheek before sitting down. "Are you trying to get him back that fast?" He snickered. "After what you said last night?"

She eyes him sideways, lips pursed but fully amused as she took a bite of her eggs. "We do still need to break the news of him having a possible baby brother or sister, Sam. You never know, Matthew might absolutely hate the idea! Maybe he likes being an only child!"

"You see the way he is around Sofie," He says through his own mouthful. He remembers during a Family get together, when his brother brought his infant daughter. "Mattie would love having a sibling."

"A cousin is far different from a sibling, Samuel." She picked at her bacon with a frown on her features. "What if he really does not want to be an older brother?" The warmth of Sam's palm covered her hand and she looked up to see him smiling gently at her, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

"Sarah, you wouldn't believe how much he does want to be a brother." The look she gave him made him laugh and he pulled his hand away. "Honey, he gets jealous whenever one of his friends talk about all the stuff they get to do with their brothers and sisters! He wants to know what that's like. He wants someone to look up to him." Her look softens into something tender, her heart swelling as she smiled. "Its going to be fine," Sam assured her. "Matthew will probably be more excited than we will!"

It was her turn to laugh, the tension melting away from her shoulders. She reached over and took his hand in her own, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight with a soft look in her eyes. Then her gaze lowers under the table as she asks, "How's your leg?" She watches him move his left leg, extending it slowly and bringing it back with smooth movements.

"Its good. Still a little stiff sometimes but I've pretty much forgotten about it." He knows she asks because she worries, despite it already being four years since the prosthetic had become a part of him. He still had physical therapy exercises that he needed to do every few times a day, but they were getting easier.

He was getting better.

They finish breakfast with peaceful silence and he takes the fishes to put them in the sink before going to change. It was an hour long drive to his Mother's after all and he would need to leave soon.

"Oh! Sam!" Sarah calls from the hallway. "We're out of sandwich bread! Could you pick some up on your way home?"

"Sure, Hon!" Sam tugged a shirt over his head and a pair of socks onto his feet. He slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed his keys from the nightstand. He kissed his wife goodbye, closing the door behind him and starting for the car. When he picks up Matthew he stays just long enough to have another cup of coffee with his Mother. But only half. He did have to stop at the store after all.

"Alright, I'll see you later, Mom," He says while hugging the older woman. "Say goodbye to grandma, Matt."

"Bye grandma!" The boy hugs her tight as she laughs and kisses him on both cheeks. "Bye, sweetheart,' She says as he pulls away and runs to the car. She gives Sam another kiss goodbye and then he's back behind the wheel and on the road.

"Your mom wants us to stop at the store on the way home. You know what that means, buddy?" He asks while looking at the boy in the mirror. He immediately sees his eyes light up in joy.

"Rocket Popsicles?"

"Rocket Popsicles."

Matthew lets out a whoop of glee at the prospect of the sweet treat. It was his Father's guilty pleasure, and Matthew's own favorite sugary ice pop. Especially when it left his tongue blue and his lips bright cherry red.

They're pulling up into the driveway a little passed one. Sam helped Matthew out of his seat and handed him the grocery bag with the Bread. "Here, go give this to your Mom and give her a big 'I Missed You' hug. I'll hide the Rockets." He watched his son race up the steps with a shake of his head as he grabs the other bags and Matthew's backpack.

He drops everything when he hears Matt let out a blood curdling scream.

\---

"Dad? ... _Daaaad_ ... DAD!" The voice (and the pillow to the head) is what wakes him up -- and then forces him to roll off the couch and onto the floor with a yelp. Matthew had stepped back at the last minute, now peering over the couch to look at his father sprawled on his back with his face twisted in pain. Yeah that did look like it hurt.

Sam groaned loudly, scrubbing at his face and forcing his glasses up into his hair. "Buddy," He starts. "You... You can't go hitting people in the face when its early."

"Dad, it's almost 1:30."

That's got Sam bolting up, slamming his shin into the coffee table -- _cursing_ \-- and almost tripping up as he made his way to the Kitchen. Bruce came running from Matthew's room with a bark, hearing the noise and coming to scare off whoever the hell was hurting his Master! Sam scrubbed at his eyes and looked at the stove clock.

"Oh holy shit," He mumbled in astonishment. He leaned against the countertop with a groan, dragging his hands down his face. Where the hell were his glasses? Ugh. And why did his morning breath taste so -- cheesy?

"You were totally wasted last night." Sam moved his fingers just enough to see his Son with this grin on his face. "You came home smashed! And then you tore into the pantry and ate my bag of Goldfish." Sam slowly let his arms down as last night's events slowly bled back into his memory. Jim 'N Kim's. Mary. _Robert_. The Drive. _The Brownies!_ He sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets it out while leaning over on himself.

"Dad, are you an alcoholic now?" Matthew asked. Sam risked a head rush with how quickly he stood back up, frantically shaking his head. Ooh. Yep. There was the head rush!

"No," He says once he regained himself. "No no no no. No. Absolutely not. I am _not_ an alcoholic. I just... Met up with some of the neighbors last night." That wasn't a total lie. It was just wasn't the entire truth is all. He did not need Matthew knowing his Father was high as a kite last night. "I'm gonna go shower, Bud." He pushes off the counter and walks passed his son, ruffling his hair as he went.

"Mr. Cahn was here this morning!" Matthew calls to him once he's in his room. "He invited us to a Softball game!" Oh that was right. Craig's daughters were on the team and he was the Coach. Sam didn't want to just blow him after just meeting the guy.

 _Off!_ Blow him off. Is what he meant. Yeah.

"What time?"

"Three! 's why I woke you."

Sam turned on the water to his shower, giving it time to warm up as he tugged his shirt off. He looked at his reflection, hand coming up to rub at the stubble collecting on his chin. Guess it was time for a trim. He glanced down, frowning at the sight of hair peeking out from his belt. In more places than one, it seemed. He jumps in the shower when it was warm enough, letting the water run down his back and wet his hair. His mouth tastes awful; a rancid combination of Morning breath, artificial cheddar cheese, smoke, and chocolate.

His forehead collides with the wall and he lets out some sound of defeat. He wasn't sure why he was defeated. He just -- he just did not want to do anything. Sam did not want to go out. He did not want to have to deal with people right now. But he knows he has to. So he takes his toothbrush, scrubs away at his tongue til all he could taste was Colgate, and then he finished his shower and dressed. It was warm today in California -- and Sam was pulling on cargo pants.

Years since he lost his leg. Matthew had been around the thing all his life so he couldn't react to it any differently. But -- Joseph and Craig and all of them. They would see it and then their views of him would _change_ and he could not deal with that right now. He did not _need_ that right now. What he needed --

...

What he needed were his pills.

He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle from where it fell out, unscrewing the cap and shaking out the capsules into his palm. He intended for one. Got three. Put one back. Stopped. He wasn't supposed to take more than what he needed. His Doctor told him what he needed.

But there were a lot of things that are not supposed to happen that do. For instance: His son was not supposed to grow up without a Mother. Bad Men didn't go free for years. His wife was not supposed to be _murdered._

He knocked back the two tablets when the remnants of his dream come back full force, forcing a choked sound from his chest as he dips his head down and scoops water into his mouth from the faucet. He wipes at his mouth with the hand towel, throwing it down and gripping the vanity with a shuddered breath.

Six years. It's been six years and he still could not stop thinking about that day. Six years and they only _now_ just put the asshole who did it away.

He pushes off the vanity and turned back into his room, stuffing his medication into his pocket and grabbing his boots from where he had kicked them off before his shower. "T-Minus ten minutes till we leave, Matt." He says as he walks passed his son. He plopped down on the couch to lace up his boots. The bottle in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric.

He heaved himself up and gave a low whistle, Bruce's nails on the floors sounding almost immediately. "Hey, Brucer, ready to go to your first game?" He gave the pug a scratch when he approached, right behind the ear where he liked it. He chuckled at the happy little snort the canine gave before he stood and grabbed the leash off the hook. "Matt!" He called, hooking the leash to Bruce's collar. "I'm getting in the car!"

"Just a minute, Dad! I'm trying to find a hat!"

Sam opened the door without looking first. "I'm walking out the door!" No, actually he was about to walk into Joseph. Sam stopped himself short from walking into the Youth Minister, the other man taking a precautionary step back. "Hey, Joe."

"Sam! So glad I could catch you," Joseph beamed. "I take it Craig invited you to the softball game too?"

"Yeah, Matthew and I were just about to head out -- If _someone_ would get their ass out here!" He called back into the house. Bruce sniffed at Joseph's leg, his tail wagging when it became apparent that this was the man who gave him the good belly rub. Matthew finally came out with his snap-back firmly on his head. "Hi, Mr. Christiansen," He said.

"Hi, Matthew! I was just about to ask your Dad if you two would like to carpool. I doubt Edgar would like riding on the back of the motorcycle."

"The game's not in the park?" Sam asked. Joseph shook his head.

"No. Craig rents a field a couple miles up the road. Not too far of a drive but its death on the feet if you try to walk it." Sam wasn't sure why they didn't just use the baseball diamond he saw in the park. It looked big enough to hold a softball game.

"Chris and I were on our way when I thought to see if you were coming," Joseph said. "Please, I insist. Call it repayment for sitting through the bake-sale." Sam decided not to mention that the bake-sale had turned out to be very rewarding. Probably wouldn't go over too well with the Missus. He gave in and nodded, watching the grin split Joseph's face.

"Great! Let me just move Chris to the back seat." He turned and made way back to his car sitting idle on the curb, another blonde child tucked nearly all the way down in the passenger seat playing -- what was a DS? Sam still had the Gameboy color he got when he was young. He made sure to lock the door behind them, giving the doorknob a good shove and twist just to be safe, then took Bruce by the leash and headed for the Sedan. It was a nice car. Nice shade of blue (he was half expecting pink).

The drive goes without problems; Matthew tries talking to Chris who only half mumbles responses before going back to his game and scooting closer to the window. Sam doesn't want to bring up what would clearly be a touchy subject, but he's curious as to why Joseph doesn't respond to his Son's Autistic nature. Maybe he would bring it up later. Luckily, Joseph plays anything _but_ Religious music.

"I try not to press the stereotype," He explains sheepishly. "Just because I'm a Youth Minister doesn't mean I have to listen to the music. Some of it is actually terrible."

"Don't gotta explain anything to me, Joe." He sees Joseph smile out if the corner of his eye, a tension he hadn't realized was in his shoulders melting away. Why Joseph felt the need to impress him he had no idea. Sam was one of the least impressive people he knew.

Sam had never been one for sports, they never peaked his interest unlike his brothers. But it did feel good to sit on those terrible metal seats and root for Craig's kids. Even if he wasn't entirely sure what the difference between Softball and Baseball was. It felt good to be there for the Moral support. And afterwards they all got together at Joseph's for a Barbeque.

"Hey, Dad, look!" Matthew said while pulling excitedly on his sleeve. "Carmensita came!"

"Yeah. With _her_ Dad, buddy," He chuckled. But he let him go and run up to her, showing off the cap he'd gotten from Craig after the game. From there he gives a nod to Mat who smiled and waved. Sam mostly stayed off to the side, letting Craig have the spotlight as he gushed over the twins and how well they played. He was content with just standing off under a tree and sipping at a fruit cocktail (no Vodka if coarse. Medication after all).

He catches sight of Mary sometime during the evening, she gives him a sharp and knowing grin as she walked up to him. "Aww, were you waiting here just for little ol' me?" She asked.

"You wish, Mares."

"Unfortunately I do," She huffed as she took the spot next to him with a sigh. She took a heavy sip of her wine. "You're like -- the Second Craig. I saw you jogging shirtless the other day."

"It was eighty degrees outside."

"Excuses, excuses." Sam snorted as he finished off his juice and crushed the cup, freezing when he caught the noise Mary had made. Her lip was caught between her teeth. She shrugged and smirked. "Sorry. Like I said, Soldier. You're hot."

He shuffled awkwardly, suddenly aware of just how _small_ Mary was compared to him. "Thanks."

"So, Robert told me you two had fun last night~" She cocked an eyebrow at him knowingly, sailing her glass of wine as Sam shuffled again. "Anything juicy happened he left out?"

"We just ate the brownies in his truck and smoked. That's all."

"He didn't invite you back to his place?" She sounded surprised.

"No, he did."

"And?" She pressed. "Did anything happen?"

"What? No. Why would anything -- I'd just met the guy. What were you expecting to happen?" Mary shakes her head, tipping back the rest of her wine and jabbing Sam in the ribs with her elbow.

"Nothin'. Its a good thing you didn't. He needs someone who isn't just --" She tried to phrase it safely sue to all the kids. "-- he needs more than a side piece, ya' know? I love the guy but I can't always be away from the family for him." She leaned back against the tree to watch the party, her twins running about with Craig's while Chris was off by himself.

"Have you considered sitting down and doing something about Chris' Autism?" Sam asked. Mary's lips pursed and she nodded.

"You noticed it too, huh? I've tried talking to Joseph about it but.." She shakes her head again with a frustrated sigh, hand coming up to rest on Sam's arm. "Nevermind. Oh!" She perked up. "I almost forgot! The reason I came over was because I saw your Pug escape earlier and he ran straight for Robert's house." Sam's eyes doubled and he couldn't get out of Joseph's yard fast enough.

"Shit shit shit shit shit! Goddamnit, Bruce!" He cursed under his breath as he made a beeline for Robert's. He was trying to think why Bruce would run for _Robert's_ and not just immediately back home. Until he remembered the night before. The dog in the Window. "Oh my God. Please let that dog have been a male." He pounded on the door with a heavy hand, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited.

And waited.

And. Waited.

"Robert," He called while pounding again. Finally he heard shuffling from the other side. The door cracked open to reveal one bleary and blood-shot eye peaking out at him. Robert looked ready to beat whoever was waking him up over the head with a bottle. Then he recognized Sam and opened the door more. He -- looked like he literally rolled out of bed. Or the couch.

"Whatcha' need?" He grunt.

"You have a dog, right?" Sam watched his brow arch. Robert nodded.

"Yeah. Betsy." _Shiiiiiiit._

"Robert, I don't know how to tell you this-" Robert went oddly stiff. "-but I think my pug may have broken into your yard to get to Betsy." Robert blinked slowly, not in the way he had before when he was (probably still is) tired. He doesn't say anything, just motions for Sam to follow him as he turns. Closing the door behind him, Sam followed Robert through his house and to the backdoor where sure enough...

"Oh, Fucking _Christ_ , Bruce!" Sam's hands were in his hair as he watch his Pug and Robert's Boston Terrier. It was Summer for God's sake's. Not _Spring._ "Robert, I am so sorry. The guy told us he was fixed I swear!" He looked at the older man -- only to find him chuckling quietly at the spectacle.

"I hope you plan on paying child support," He says while opening the door part way. He pulls out a carton of cigarettes and shakes one into his hand, holding it between his teeth and holding the carton out in offer to Sam. He sighed and accepted, waiting for the lighter and taking a drag when it was lit.

"Fine. But only if I get to name half of them."

"Only the ones that look like me."

"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> You all Said you'd like to see more of Sam! And here I shall Deliver.


End file.
